process

Qreative Quarantine : The prologue.

It’s officially D-7 since the W.H.O. declared COVID-19 as a global pandemic. So naturally, I’ve been facetiming friends and family more since we’ve all (well most of us working in advertising) have been instructed to work from home, on top of all the restaurants, bars, public event spaces being closed. This morning, I was chatting with my fellow female creatives (our group chat is full of “how long are you wfh for??” and “omg why didn’t I get wine!”) when our now-routine question of what our plans for the day came up. I typed excitedly about how I was working on coming up with ideas for Carte Blanche, an advertising competition where you have a billboard and can do whatever the fuck you want with it, basically.

Odd though - if you know me in the slightest - I am not one to get excited about these things. Yes, I work in advertising, but to be frank, ad competitions nor awards were never milestones I dreamt of reaching in my career plans. And as someone who’s a strong production art director, it’s difficult to get excited about anything that doesn’t entail a shoot. So while my girlfriends were barfing at the idea of working on an advertising competition at a time like this, I realized the real reason why I was excited. I had my sketchbooks spread on my little wooden desk, with a vase full of yellow daffodils, and “black wedding music / love songs” (I appreciate the bluntness, Spotify) blasting from my speakers. The whiff of floral and the vocals of Luther Vandross decorating my apartment is why I feel excited at the thought of making a damn billboard. Workspace is everything. If I was being forced to work on this at my desk at the office, this would be a different story. But getting to work at the pace, the style, and in the space of my own curation, changes everything. There’s something in doing, and not forced to do. Creating, and not forced to create.

Hear me out: An office space creates a limited environment where the sole purpose is to place pressure on individuals coming in, to lose themselves as ‘true individuals’ and work as a ‘collective’. While that is somewhat effective, it also creates an environment in which all anyone does on their own will is check their phones and impatiently wait for 5:30pm, when they can go home (hopefully) and do what they WANT to do as individuals. Can true individuality and collectiveness coexist? I’m not talking about “wear what you want to the office” or “speak your mind in this meeting” kind of individualism. I’m talking about an environmental individuality for creativity - specifically about one’s curation of their environment that best creates their state of flow, and being able to integrate that with others’ curation of their environments.

Is it an office where every individual gets their own room? And each individual is able to curate that room however they see fit, that will induce flow best for them? And if we’re thinking that way, then right now, leadership teams in modern office spaces must have the best state of flow, having their own rooms decorated to a bougie tee. Except, aren’t their state of creative flow less necessary compared to those who do the actual “creation”, for example art directors, designers, and writers? Perhaps the capital office space format favors hierarchy more than productivity. And if that’s the case, then it will be interesting to see how many creatives working in a commercial industry find their creativity flow during this period of self-isolation - from the comfort of their individually curated spaces.

Battleship Island

I was going to post this as just another shared video on Facebook, but I found myself wanting to write more than just a one-liner to accompany the clip. 

Battleship Island is not just a movie, it is a true part of Korean history that's not to be forgotten. Near the end of Japan's 35-year occupation of South Korea, my home country, more than 60,000 Koreans, Chinese, Americans, and others were forced into labour for coal-mining on an island called Hashima Island, otherwise known as Battleship Island. While on the ground level of this isolated island, the people of Japan grew more wealthy and became happier with the rise of industrialization, 1km under sea level, Korean and Chinese victims grew weaker and thinner in order to industrialize the country that imprisoned them.

Even to this day, the tour "guides" of Hashima Island 'forget' to mention the fucked up history that occurred beneath the ground on which they stand. Instead, they encourage tourists to take pictures wearing the helmets that were the only protection the labourers had underground. And the way the world decides to make up for it, is to recognize Hashima Island as a "UNESCO approved World Heritage Site"? They must've 'forgotten' that these people did not come to this island on their own accord, they were drowned, starved, dragged, beaten, and forced against their will. I believe this is why Ryoo Seung Wan, one of my favourite South Korean directors, has decided to tell this story. Even though it's more than 70 years late, better late than to 'forget' forever. Korean cinema often regards film as a medium through which to retell Korean history from our voice, in stunning and memorable ways. I hope that after watching this film, it stays with you, for this one truly deserves to be remembered.

 

Some more videos if you want to learn more about the full truth:

 

 

 

 

 

Hankyul Oh
A letter from a recent graduate.

After 5 years of studying until 3:00 AM's, learning how to use a multitude of Adobe programs and Speedotrons, working on sets and shoots on countless weekends, and making a ton of mistakes along the way, I've finally graduated from the nest, my safety net. Despite the frequent complaints, a few regrets here and there, I wouldn't have chosen any other place to call 'home' for the past 5 years. To OCADU and Toronto, thank you.

To my friends from all walks of life, I met many of you over the past half a decade. You made every shitty moment laughable, cried together through each others' heartbreaks, and truly made me feel a part of your lives. It's cheesy to say our friendships will last forever, but I don't see it any other way. 

To the unofficial mentors who guided me with words of encouragement and sharp criticisms, you've shaped and sculpted my unrefined talents and amateur passion into the mature, independent creative that I am today. I know these next few years will not be an easy one. It'll be filled with bumps and holes, moments of harsh low's and short-lived high's. But nevertheless, I've never felt more prepared and confident to enter this new chapter, and I have you to kindly blame. :)

To my own mother who has always been a strong source of inspiration and my role model in life, without your endless love and support, I would have never dared to chase after my passion in the arts, reach for far-reaching dreams, or imagine I'd be here today. When everyone said 'Do what you should', you said, 'Do what you want'. I will always be thankful and in debt to your strength and selfless heart.

Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart. - Steve Jobs, 2005

 

From a recent graduate,

Hankyul

Hankyul Oh
Women's March, 2017.

I decided to take a break from online social activism, and took part in a real protest on Saturday January 21, 2017. It was the first time I participated in a protest on the streets, and I walked most of it alone. I've never considered myself an expert in politics or adept at talking about it, but I do know that it doesn't take a political expert, or a so-called 'activist' to walk for human rights. Basic rights that we still have to demand, in 2017. 

These are some images I took from my iPhone from the Women's March, 2017 in Toronto. 

Hankyul Oh
LA, 2014

Some shots I took on my iPhone 5 of the beautiful states of California and Nevada back in 2014.

Edited on VSCO and Afterlight.

Hankyul Oh
Thesis: the Season Finale
3 and a half months later, it's finally come to a close. And somehow I made it. 

 

 

 

Hankyul Oh